


Elastic Heart

by paintingraves (kallistob)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hope, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Kid!Eskel, Kid!Geralt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Papa Vesemir, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/pseuds/paintingraves
Summary: What if he didn’t connect with any of those kids? What if he’d done all this for nothing? Fuck, what the hell was he even thinking? Who would want him for a father - lonely, old scarred wolf that he was? This was a terrible mistake.--Vesemir visits a foster care home to adopt a child, and meets Eskel and Geralt.
Comments: 45
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ! 
> 
> I wrote all this down in one go, I hope you enjoy this little story! 
> 
> NB: I know nothing about actual adoption, only vaguely browsed the wikia page. It's fanfiction my lads! I just wanted to write some softness and bby Geralt and Eskel! <3

Vesemir’s heart pounded as he followed the matron down the corridors of the foster care home. After two years of waiting and a lot of administrative headaches, he was finally, legally allowed to adopt a child. 

The finalized adoption papers would come later - provided the kid he chose agreed - but Vesemir was happy to have fought and won this exhausting battle, even though currently he was extremely nervous. 

This was something no amount of meditating could prepare him for: the first of three visits planned to this adoption center. They were heading to a playroom where Vesemir would see and meet the children and (hopefully) bond with one. 

Sweat ran down his back. He was clutching the handle of his briefcase like a lifeline. Not for the first time, he desperately wished he wouldn’t have undertaken this equally exciting and _terrifying_ process alone. He wished he had a partner with him, a wife, a lover, a mother-figure to his future kid. But Vesemir had wanted a child for a long time; he was sterile, and the reality was that he had been alone for years and he couldn’t change that with a snap of his fingers. His last love affair went back to his twenties when he’d become entangled with a pompous rich man’s daughter, called Mignole, and then he’d been deployed in the military for the next twenty or so years before retiring early due to his injury. That was just how it was for him. Plenty of people were single parents, and Vesemir had felt like it was time when he started the adoption process. 

Vesemir Rivia owned a nice house on the outskirts of Ard Carraigh, named _Kaer Morhen,_ courtesy of his late parents. He had a lot of savings from his time in the military, plus the hefty sum of money the army had given him when he was medically discharged. 

He had done therapy for a long time, and after careful deliberations he was deemed financially and mentally stable enough to adopt a kid. 

Vesemir had spent months doing up his home himself for the occasion: first he’d emptied the house, sorting through all his parents’ old stuff, keeping some pieces of furniture and some boxes of memories, and either throwing or selling the rest away; then he’d gotten down to work and cleaned the whole house, fixed the plumbing, redid the garden (planting a new lawn and flowers and repainting the gate), rearranged the kitchen, repainted the bedrooms (his a cream color and the child’s future room a light blue), tried to make the cellar into something a bit more habitable by adding a couch, a carpet, and even buying a tiny babyfoot. 

He’d browsed through the Internet to find some interior design ideas and bought a bunch of fake houseplants to make the house more lively. He even entertained the thought of buying children’s toys in advance but slowed down, realising he was in over his head when the adoption process wasn’t even finished yet; hells, when he hadn’t even visited the foster care home! So that’s where he drew the line. 

After that he spent the last month trying to think about something else. He’d lend a hand to a few neighbours whose houses also needed fixing, kept up regular appointments with his doctors, took walks in the nearby forest, read some damn good books, had a beer or two at his favorite bar, played Gwent at the local board game club, etc etc. 

And now? Here he was. 

“This way,” Mrs. Miller guided him gently. “There’s no need to look so afraid, Mr. Rivia, it all happens very naturally, you’ll see. We had a couple in just yesterday who looked just as anxious as you are, then they walked into the room and immediately fell in love with Rose who’d been drawing at a table. An instant connection, you could say.” 

That did not make Vesemir feel better in the slightest. 

Instant connection? 

What if he didn’t connect with any of those kids? What if he’d done all this… for nothing? Fuck, what the hell was he even thinking? Who would want _him_ for a father - lonely, old scarred wolf that he was? This was a terrible mistake. 

He almost opened his mouth to say so, and then the matron stopped in front of a door behind which he could hear conversation and children’s laughter. The word ‘playroom’ was painted on the wooden door in dancing, brightly colored letters. She smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and turned the handle. 

Vesemir followed her, and suddenly found himself facing ten pair of bright eyes who stared at him curiously before they resumed their activities, used to random strangers’ visits. They were not alone: a young woman supervised them, sitting at the table in the middle of the room to help one of the kids with a puzzle. She looked up and smiled at him, and Mrs. Miller gave her a nod. She patted Vesemir on the arm and then left, and he felt suddenly very much bereft and at a loss as to what to do. 

He knew he had an hour to walk around the room and talk to the children before she’d be back, but suddenly it seemed like an unconquerable task. It hit him like a freight train that this whole thing was _real._ He was… He was here to adopt one of these children. He _would_ adopt one of these children. Holy Melitele. 

Vesemir prided himself on being a very strong man, both physically and mentally, but right now? He felt a bit faint. 

The distress must have shown on his face, for the supervisor looked at him once more, encouraged the child to keep on with her puzzle and rose up, dusting off her skirt. She walked up to him and extended a hand, her grip firm despite her small size. “I’m Amelia.” 

“Vesemir,” he said. 

“Right. Well I can tell you’re nervous, Vesemir, but they’re all just kids looking for a warm home and a family...I know how difficult it is to adopt a kid nowadays, but if you went through all that, it’s because you have a lot of love to give, isn't it? So just let your heart guide you.” 

That all sounded very cliché, but Vesemir found he could breathe easier all the same. Amelia smiled at him kindly and he nodded his thanks. Heartened, he decided to follow her advice and started by taking in his surroundings. 

There were two playrooms: the one he currently stood in, and another one accessible through a doorway decorated with a dangling curtain of pearls. 

The walls were adorned with a multitude of children’s drawings. Sunlight filtered through the window, painting a mosaic on the walls. The floor was covered in padded colored squares, and two of the walls were lined with a whole variety of toys, and tubs filled with books. Vesemir could see board games, puppets, dolls, Legos, tiny cars, and so on. There were only four children in this room: three of them were sitting at the table with Amelia, who spoke to them in a low voice. 

A fourth kid, a girl with braided brown hair, was quietly reading a book in a corner. She must have been 7 or 8, and she was dressed in a loose purple shirt and had a round pair of glasses perched atop her nose. She paid zero attention to Vesemir, and the man hesitated - he didn’t want to disturb her reading when she looked so serious about it. 

Stalling for time, he noticed the coat rack behind the door, and hung up his briefcase and his coat to make himself more comfortable. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and passed the pearly curtain into the other room. 

Here, the floor was covered in a fitted carpet representing a race circuit. There were other drawings on the walls, although they were more elaborate than in the first room, one even depicting an impressively realistic wolf head. There was also a poster of Frozen and the Avengers. Vesemir surveyed the room and its occupants: a girl and a chubby boy were playing with Kaplas and dinosaur figurines in the middle of it, completely engrossed in their game. 

There was a bookcase set against the walls to Vesemir’s right, marking the angle, with four pouffes in front of it. Another boy (who seemed to be around ten) was sprawled in one of them reading a Tintin comic. Against the wall to his left, there was a large dînette as well as a Barbie doll house; and from the two windows, Vesemir could see the grounds of the property, with the parking in the distance where he’d left his car. 

The two children playing together were making a ruckus. The boy loudly protested the girl’s wish to have a meteorite fall on the dinosaurs and destroy their carefully built Kapla tower. He wrapped his arms around it in an effort to protect it, and Vesemir chuckled at their antics. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought, and crouched next to the boy with the Tintin book to engage in conversation. “Hello," he said. "What’s your name?” 

The boy turned a page, and Vesemir noticed the hearing aid in the boy’s ear. “Elliot.” 

“How old are you, Elliot?” 

“I’m ten,” the boy sniffed. Vesemir was surprised. 

“Are you really? You’re tall for your age.” 

“Amelia says it’s cause I eat lots of soup.” 

“Is that your favorite food?” 

“No,” Elliot admitted. “I prefer burgers!” He hesitated and showed Vesemir his book. “Do you know Tintin and Snowy?” He asked. 

“I do, I love those comics.” 

“Really? What’s your favorite?” 

“The one where they go on the moon.” 

“Mine’s the one with the gorilla!” Elliot said happily, and they kept chatting. 

Elliot was a nice, passionate kid with floppy brown hair and blue eyes. He was deaf in one ear and dreamed of becoming a firefighter just because he liked the red of the trucks. Time flew by quickly: before he knew it, Mrs. Miller had come back. It was already time to leave for Vesemir, and he felt sheepish to have gathered the courage to only talk to _one_ kid. When he got up - wincing at the twinge of pain in his side and knee after crouching for so long - he looked around one last time and noticed a… a tent? A sort of tent, made up of two blankets. It was discreetly set up near the opposite corner of the room in diagonal, and the color of the sheets blended in with the wall. 

Vesemir had failed to notice it when he first entered. He could hear the matron chatting with Amelia in the other room, and while he knew they were waiting for him, he walked up to the little contraption and knelt in front of it curiously. He peered through the gap in the blankets and met a pair of startling light brown eyes, so clear they almost glowed like an amber. 

Vesemir blinked. 

The boy blinked back, and then nudged another kid who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Now there were _two_ small boys staring at him. Vesemir’s chest felt painfully tight with something he couldn't name. He wanted to protect them. Why were they hiding? 

The boys were sitting atop a pile of pillows. There was an open book in the lap of the one on the right, and a torch near the entrance of their little secret cave. The one of the left hugged a stuffed animal close to his chest. 

They seemed to be around the same age, of the same height and build. They perhaps could have been brothers if it were not for notable other physical differences. The one on the left was pressing a hand against the right side of his face, as if to hide it from view, but Vesemir had had time to glimpse what looked like impressive, gnarled scars - a profoundly unsettling sight on such a young child. They couldn’t be more than 5 or 6. His hair and eyes were dark, while the one on the right - who stared valiantly back at Vesemir - had blond hair, so pale it looked almost white. 

The white-haired boy nudged the other one with his elbow. “Eskel. He found us.” 

“Noo. I don’t wanna’,” the other boy, Eskel, said. 

His voice came out muffled and - to Vesemir’s chagrin - wet. Was he crying…? But what had Vesemir done to upset him? The other boy stayed silent, then he slid from his seat to the tent’s flaps to meet Vesemir, who sat back on his knees and let the boy come to him. He held out his little hand for Vesemir to shake like a real adult, and Vesemir's heart melted. 

He shook it back, his hand dwarfing the boy’s. The boy sat in front of him, and said: “I’m Geralt. Amelia says we’re s’pposed to introduce ourselves to any adult who comes.” 

“I’m Vesemir,” Vesemir replied. Geralt looked suspiciously above his shoulder. 

“Are you alone?” He asked, as if expecting a cooing woman to suddenly appear out of thin air. If Geralt was looking for a mother, Vesemir was afraid he'd be sorely disappointed. 

“Aye,” he said gruffly. “I am.” 

Geralt shuffled his feet. His bout of bravado was leaving him just as quickly as it'd come, and as he took Vesemir in properly, he started looking intimidated.

“Who’s your friend?” Vesemir asked. 

“Eskel.” 

“Why doesn’t he come out as well?” he said gently. 

“He says hiding is safer ‘cos… people came yesterday and _saw_ him.” He sounded sad, and Vesemir frowned in incomprehension. Geralt made a vague gesture towards his own face. “They were ‘fraid of him, cos of his face. But -” His lips wobbled. “But it’s not fair! Eskel is nice, and he’s my _friend_ , and t- and those people were _mean_ to him! He cried a lot last night. So when Melia said another adult would come today we hid here. Are you… Are you mad?” 

“I’m not mad, Geralt," Vesemir reassured him as he took this in. His voice remained calm, gentle, honest: however disfigured Eskel could possibly be, he’d seen much worse when he was deployed, and his heart broke at seeing how much the kid was afraid of a possible negative reaction. “I _won’t_ be afraid or disgusted, I promise, Eskel. I'd very much like to meet you. I’m here to…” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’m here to adopt a son. I have a feeling it could be you. ” 

Geralt lit up at that, but Eskel shook his head, his face firmly pressed against the pillows. His friend chewed nervously at his lower lip and shuffled again, hugging his knees to his chest. 

“Will you be here t’morrow?” Geralt asked. 

“Not tomorrow, the day after. Two nights from now.” 

He nodded seriously. “Then I’ll tell Eskel to come out then.” 

“That’s very kind, Geralt.” 

“He’s very good,” Geralt insisted, the words suddenly spilling from his mouth. “Eskel, I mean - he reads a _lot_ a lot, and he’s very smart - the smarter of all of us - and he knows lotta things like, like the name of all the dinosaurs and aaaall the planets, he’d make a good son --” 

“Geralt, _stop,”_ Eskel suddenly hissed, coming out of his burrow to catch his friend by the collar of his shirt. “Sstop it!” He had a lisp, and his long dark hair fell in his face, shielding the right side from Vesemir’s view. Yet it wasn’t enough to hide how red his face had become. 

“But I’m _right!_ Stop it Eskel!”

“No! Leave me alone!” 

“Geralt, Eskel, that’s enough,” a kind but firm voice said, and both boys looked up at Amelia. So did Vesemir. “Mr. Rivia, it’s time for the afternoon snack. Mrs. Miller will show you to the door.” 

“Ah - of course,” Vesemir said, disappointed. He was interested in these two kids, they were touching. But he knew he'd be back to see them soon. He got up, his knees cracking. 

Eskel was looking down, but his little hand gripped Geralt’s shirt tightly, while Geralt looked up at Vesemir with those peculiar, piercing eyes of his. “Goodbye, Mr. Vesemir.” 

Eskel mumbled the same thing shyly. 

“Goodbye, Geralt. I’ll see you both on Friday.” Vesemir wanted to add something, but he had no idea what, and Amelia was getting impatient. He waved at them instead, but the two boys were already focused on one another. Vesemir took back his coat and briefcase, said goodbye to Amelia, and followed Mrs. Miller out of the door (hearing Amelia clap her hands and say ‘snack time!’ to a chorus of cheers right after they left.) 

“Those two boys…” Vesemir began, fidgeting with the handle of his briefcase. “Geralt and Eskel…” 

“Yes?” Mrs. Miller prompted. 

“They seem very close.” 

“Oh, they are,” she said pleasantly, taking the opening for what it was. “They both got here only one week apart, actually. Eskel is a sweetheart. He's so very kind. Gave me flowers the other day that I still keep in my office. He's the one who drew the wolf head in the playroom, I don't know if you noticed it? Because it's Geralt's favorite animal... He was as skittish as a fawn at first, mostly stayed curled up in a corner trying to make himself as small as possible. He took comfort in books, almost read through our entire library, but we were starting to despair at his lack of social interaction with the other kids when Geralt arrived. Now, Geralt... “ She smiled fondly. “He’s a piece of work. He's _terribly_ clever and stubborn to boot, and he looks like an angel. He almost got adopted a few times, but he scared people off by being very rude and honest when he didn’t like them, and also having breakdowns saying he wouldn’t go anywhere without Eskel, and no one stood for that.” She sighed. “These two took to each other like fish to water the second they met. They’re inseparable, and I’m glad for them, but they have caused us a few problems.” 

Vesemir swallowed. Looked down, then up, ignoring the part of his brain that screamed that even voicing the idea aloud was complete madness. “What if I said I wanted to adopt both of them?... Could that be possible?” 

The matron stopped short. Slowly, she said, “Then we’d need to discuss the details in my office at length, because it gets much more complicated, I won't lie. However, Mr. Rivia, if you are really serious about taking them both in… Then you’d make them - and us! - very, very happy indeed.” Her voice gentled as she narrated. “Eskel’s father used to beat him. He hit him with a broken bottle of beer - that’s how he came to be in the foster care system. The man passed out after the act, and his mother was nowhere to be seen... But Eskel was very smart, and incredibly brave, and he had the good sense to grab his father’s phone and call the police, bleeding and crying and completely incomprehensible. They found him thanks to GPS tracking and he was taken to the hospital and promptly removed from his parents’ care.” 

“By the gods…” Vesemir breathed. 

“He’s a very good kid.” Geralt had said the same thing in the same tone of voice, and Vesemir assumed Mrs. Miller must be repeating these exact words quite often. “But it’s true that his facial scars look horrible, and most people coming here want a perfect child… ” She sighed again, with feeling. “So he hides to protect himself. He doesn’t mean to be rude, in fact he’s very polite, it’s just...”

“A defense mechanism. Yeah, I get it.” That painful feeling in Vesemir’s chest was back, and behind it - a new resolve. An iron-clad resolve. A fire burned in Vesemir’s eyes -- anger on Eskel’s behalf, and sudden determination to adopt the poor kid. 

He could feel, in his heart of hearts, that _this_ was the right path to take. 

He would adopt Eskel, and he would adopt Geralt (since the two apparently came as a package deal), administrative nightmare be damned, and he would raise them as his own. 

“And what about Geralt?” He enquired as they neared the building’s exit. 

“Father unknown, his mother abandoned him one day. She simply... disappeared. Vanished off the surface of the Earth last year. Geralt dragged himself to a police officer, dirty and famished, after he’d been left alone in the flat for an entire day and ate all the crisps he could find.” She shook her head, a disgusted expression on her face. “Some _people,_ I swear...” 

Vesemir quite agreed. Unless something extremely serious had happened to her, this was disgusting, immoral behavior from Geralt's mother. 

“If you want to discuss this further, Mr. Rivia, feel free to give me a phone call,” Mrs. Miller said once they were in front of the sliding door. “Otherwise, I will see you on Friday. Have a good evening.” 

“I’ll call,” Vesemir promised. “Thank you for your warm welcome, Mrs. Miller.” 

Vesemir exited the building and walked to his car, his head reeling with what he’d just seen and heard. 

His decision was made, rooted, set in stone; in fact he couldn’t help but feel like he had made up his mind the very second his eyes met Geralt’s. That must have been what the matron referred to when she spoke of an instant connection...

Those boys, Eskel and Geralt, had both been dealt a poor hand at life so far. They really deserved better. Vesemir’s fingers drummed on the wheel as he let his body drive him home automatically. 

Adopting one kid was hard enough. Adopting two was asking for trouble, but he was resolute. Even though he’d only gotten a glimpse of the strong bond that united the two traumatized kids, Vesemir _knew_ it would break Geralt’s heart if he never saw Eskel again. 

And if Vesemir himself didn’t adopt Eskel, he couldn’t help feeling like no one ever would - something which had been more or less implied in Mrs. Miller’s speech... And if no one adopted him, Eskel would grow up in a foster care home until he was 18, then he’d be thrown out on the streets with nothing but a bag of meager belongings. 

Not a dollar to his name. Left alone, he’d have to fend for himself without the security of a home, without a proper education, without work experience, _nothing_. Vesemir thought Eskel would probably be strong enough to deal with all that on his own, and get back up, but it’d be a terrible experience. He wouldn’t wish homelessness upon anyone. And that was a best case scenario; because even though he was apparently brilliant, Eskel already struggled with a ton of self-esteem issues. Left to his own devices at the tender age of 18, with no one around to give two _shits_ about him, he was more likely to fall into a deep pit of depression, drugs, alcohol, and violence. 

That thought upset Vesemir immensely, because he had the power to _do_ something to prevent it from happening. In fact he’d already started by showing up to the foster care home today and noticing Geralt and Eskel in their little refuge. 

… Well. 

Sure seemed like he’d be adopting not one, but _two_ kids after all... 

He could do this, couldn’t he? He was a good caretaker, a natural protector (so said his old therapist) and he would be a good fa - a good _father._

Holy shit he was going to be a _father._

Vesemir groaned and put his forehead on the wheel. Fuck. He felt elated, but what had he gotten himself into. 

He was aware that taking Geralt and Eskel under his wing was going to be difficult for a long while. With what they’d gone through, they’d be very distrustful of him at first. 

But he vowed to do his best for them. 

He’d try very, very hard to be a good kind of father, the father they deserved. Because he had to be. They needed him, and he needed them; they would be counting on him. Vesemir would _not_ fail them like their own parents had. 

He would love them, and he would watch them grow until they were as tall as him or taller, and he would watch them become fine young men. He would teach them everything he knew so they could fend for themselves once they left home as adults, and he would care for them, until he drew last breath. 

His boys. His _sons._

They already held a very special place in his heart. Vesemir could only hope that, in time, they could learn to love him too. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vesemir takes Eskel and Geralt home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing this story : 🥺🥺🥺

If Vesemir thought the adoption process had been insane prior to actually visiting the foster care home, it was nothing compared to what he was experiencing now that he’d made it clear he wished to adopt not one but _two_ children - Geralt Frazier and Eskel Cirillo. 

First, they sent him a huge file via email detailing the boys’ needs and their interests, and he was asked to think carefully about whether he would be able to meet them; if yes, he had to prove it, especially on the financial part. 

He visited the foster care home twice more (spending over an hour with Geralt and Eskel each time) and there were three other visits to his own home, Kaer Morhen, with additional interviews in order to determine if he was actually suitable to be an adoptive parent - bearing in mind that he'd already gone through all that before. Vesemir determinedly put up with it all, appreciating how careful the Adoption Services were with potential adoptive families. 

They finally agreed on an interim adoption order, meaning he would finally be able to do what every adult who filed an Expression of Interest form hoped for: drive to the foster care facility, and take Geralt and Eskel to their new home. For now, and until they grew older, the boys would be sharing the same bedroom. It used to be the master bedroom and so it was wide enough for two beds. Noticing Eskel’s love for books, Vesemir had also put up a bookshelf with a few comics and novels, asking advice at the local library on what a 6 year old would like to read. He’d also caved in and visited the toy store, buying Geralt and Eskel two identical stuffed wolves which he put on top of the bed covers as a… sort of welcoming gift. He hoped the boys would like them. 

The day came. Vesemir woke up at the crack of dawn and did his morning ablutions with the efficiency one should expect from a military man. His bed was neatly made, his beard closely shaven. He brushed back his long grey hair and tied it in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. 

His mind was entirely preoccupied with thoughts of the kids. Once Vesemir had shown them their new home he planned to leave them alone for an hour or so so they could explore on their own and get their bearings. Then he would suggest they go to the supermarket for groceries, so he could buy the kids what they liked to eat (in moderation of course - he wouldn’t stand for a cart completely full of sugary food products.) And tonight they could perhaps watch a movie. He’d gotten a Netflix subscription just for this. Bed at nine, they were still young… 

Summer was just now starting, and it would be nice to go on holiday somewhere; perhaps to the coast, near Cidaris, in one of those family-friendly holiday villages where they’d be able to meet some other kids. He also had, of course, to enroll them in an elementary school before September. He’d already started to look into that, and had had the Director of the Dandelions School on the phone just the other day - a very nice, understanding man. Vesemir had a good feeling about this school. 

He drove to the foster care home in a bit of a daze, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. He knew the way by heart now. Mrs. Miller waited for him at the door, as agreeable as ever, and there were the two boys - waiting for him in the hall. They had tiny suitcases at their feet. Eskel was hunched over on his chair, engrossed in a book as per usual, and Geralt was obviously bored, swinging his feet and pouting. He looked up and opened his mouth, the words dying on his tongue as he saw Vesemir at the entrance. 

“Vesemir!”

“Hey, lad.” Vesemir smiled at him. “How're you doing?” 

“Great!” Geralt said enthusiastically. He jumped from the chair, grabbed the handle of his suitcase and hurried towards Vesemir. Eskel was more subdued, as was his character. He calmly closed his comic book, slid from his seat and took his suitcase and his old stuffed wolf as well, hugging it to his chest like always. He greeted Vesemir with a shy _hello_ and Vesemir smiled and ruffled his hair. 

“Alright,” he said. “We’re leaving, then. Thank you for everything, Mrs. Miller.” 

The woman nodded. “I’ll see you next Friday for the home visit, Mr. Rivia.” 

Vesemir started to lead Eskel and Geralt away with a hand on their backs when the former turned around with hesitation. “Mrs. Miller?” 

“Sweetheart?” 

“Will...” The boy stumbled over the words. "We - will I… me and Geralt, we won't ever see you again...?" 

“Oh, Eskel.” The old woman’s eyes shone with unshed tears. She crouched and held open her arms, and both boys left Vesemir’s side to throw themselves at her for a hug. “You boys are going to have a new home, a new family," she murmured into Eskel’s hair as the boy clung tightly to her. Vesemir picked up the stuffed wolf which lay discarded on the tiled floor, his chest painfully tight. “It’ll be much better than here, you’ll see! And Vesemir will take such good care of you, I promise. If you want, you can always come back to visit. I'll be very happy to see you.” 

“We'll miss you,” Geralt mumbled. “You're nice....” 

Eskel nodded, his face hidden in her shoulder. After another minute they drew away from her. They were sad to leave her, yes, but they were also children, curious and excited to go out in the world, eager to follow Vesemir and see his home. Mrs. Miller stood up again and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, smudging her mascara. “Goodbye, Eskel, Geralt.” 

“Bye Mrs. Miller,” they said in unison, and the two children walked with Vesemir outside, turning the page and beginning a new chapter of their lives. 

\---

The boys were silent as Vesemir put their suitcases in the trunk of the car and invited them to take the back seats. He buckled their seatbelts and took the driver’s seat, reversing to make his way out of the parking lot. 

Vesemir regularly checked all was well in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t unusual for Eskel to be silent, but he wasn’t used to Geralt keeping his mouth shut. But it seemed both boys had taken to the regular car activity of children - just looking out the window pensively. 

The right side of Eskel’s face was still obscured by a curtain of dark hair, hiding his facial scars, and Geralt had let his own grow as well. It was now so long he could be mistaken for a girl from behind. Vesemir itched to take them both for a proper haircut, but he’d simply voice the idea and let the boys decide when they were ready - particularly Eskel, who used his hair to shield his face from view in order to avoid stares and other negative reactions that left such an impression on the poor child’s mind. Vesemir truly wanted to see him grow into a fine young man, unashamed of his scars and the history behind them. They meant he had survived. Eskel would no doubt need therapy at some point to deal with that, though. And so would Geralt. Everyone could benefit from good therapy in Vesemir's opinion. After he was discharged, it helped him immensely in rebuilding his psyche and finding himself again, and he was grateful for it. But that could wait - he wouldn't thrust therapy and other medical appointments in the boys' faces until they were well settled in, comfortable in their new home and their new life with Vesemir. One day at a time, one step at a time.

Vesemir drove his car into the garage and turned off the engine. He unlocked the doors and both boys stepped out of the car, taking in the garage with wide eyes. There wasn’t much to see, just old tools here and there, but they seemed to be fascinated. Vesemir used the remote control to close the garage door and opened the trunk, giving the boys their things. He then led them inside the house. 

There was a short, spiraling flight of stairs that led from the garage to the entrance corridor of the house. Vesemir invited Geralt and Eskel to put their things down and take off their shoes, after which he gave them a grand tour of his home. There were old pictures hanging on the walls of the living-room. Vesemir took Eskel up in his arms, and told them who every person represented here was : Vesemir’s old father and mother, his mates from the army, and the only picture he kept of Mignole, the single and most important romantic relationship of his life. 

He showed the boys the kitchen and the garden. Geralt gasped as he spotted a tabby cat in the grass, and Vesemir explained she was the neighbors’ and sometimes liked to visit and yes, Geralt could try to pet her. She came to Vesemir’s house often enough, and he himself could not resist her big amber eyes that begged for a scrap of food or a few scritches. 

They went up the stairs to the first floor where the boys discovered Vesemir’s room, the bathroom (with a bathtub! Geralt gasped in delight), the toilets, and finally their bedroom. 

“This is your home now,” Vesemir said gently as he placed the suitcases down on top of the blue and green bed covers. “You’ll share this room until you’re older. My room is right next to yours. If you have a problem during the night, can’t sleep or something, don’t hesitate to wake me up. I’m a very light sleeper.” Geralt grinned and jumped on the bed, bouncing on it. 

“Look!” The boy said, brandishing the brand new stuffed wolf Vesemir had placed on the bed in his hand. “Eskel, there’s a _wolf!”_

Eskel ran to Geralt, looking at the new wolf with wide eyes and then down at the old soft toy in his arms, seemingly struggling to come to a decision. Geralt stuck his tongue out. “It’s mine now!” He hugged the wolf close to his chest possessively.

“There's another one for you, look,” Vesemir said hastily when Eskel’s lip wobbled. He grabbed the other wolf and held it out for Eskel. The boy took it and looked up at Vesemir, his eyes shining. Then he quickly stepped forward and hugged Vesemir's leg. The old man stumbled and smiled softly, patting Eskel's hair. "Do you like it?" 

Eskel backed away and squeezed both his old and new toy against his chest. He had a gap-toothed, bright smile. It was rare to see him smile. 

“I do, sir. Thank you,” he enunciated carefully, all too aware of his lisp. Vesemir made a face. 

“Oh lord, don’t call me _that_. Makes me feel old.” 

“You _are_ old!” Geralt cried. He was still happily bouncing on the bed, making the bedframe creak. "'Cause you got grey hair! Like the grandpa in one of Eskel’s books!” 

Vesemir raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? Well you’ve got _white_ hair, little wolf, so if we go by hair color you’re _older_ than me.” 

Geralt paused and thought about that. “Not true!” he said finally. “I’m 6 and a half! Mrs. Miller said so! You - you must be at least _one hundred!”_ He pointed a triumphant finger at Vesemir's face.

 _"That's_ stupid,” Eskel said. “'Cause if he was that old he’d have a cane! And he doesn’t!” 

Geralt frowned. _“Yeah_ , but not all old people have canes!” 

“And not all people with grey hair are a hundred years old,” Vesemir interrupted, putting a wise end to the amusing, childish argument. “You can explore the house on your own now, boys. We’ll have a snack and then we'll go _grocery shopping.”_

“Oooooooh,” both boys said as though it was something incredible. Vesemir chuckled and left them to it. 

\----

He went back downstairs and settled in the living-room with a good book, but his mind was elsewhere - namely on the boys upstairs. For a while he heard nothing, but progressively things got more and more animated. Now he could hear the sound of their footsteps scuttling about as they explored every nook and cranny of the first floor. 

“Geralt! There’s a whole lotta comics, _look!”_

That was Vesemir’s room. He'd have to make sure to hide the comics with more adult themes elsewhere. 

"Geralt, don't touch that!" 

“Ewww, it smells weird!” 

...Had they found his cologne, maybe...? 

"Let's play hide and seek! You do the counting!" 

Oh dear. 

Vesemir smiled to himself and opened his book. This household promised to become much more lively for the next couple decades... and feel much less lonely. 

He'd made a good decision. He settled in comfortably in the armchair and started reading, feeling, for the first time, confident and optimistic about what the future could hold. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! leave a comment and/or kudos if you liked the thing! <3 I may write more for this story (because I sure as hell noted down some more ideas for this au) but for now I just needed to get this out of my head.
> 
> ... Please imagine Vesemir also adopting Lambert down the line... 
> 
> And also kid!Jaskier meeting kid!Geralt, defending him in front of other kids who called him a freak... Yeah ToT


End file.
